


Giddy Up to My Heart

by HiddenEye



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Confessions, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Pining Keith (Voltron), Stripper Shiro (Voltron), Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Yeehaw AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 02:41:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15403173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenEye/pseuds/HiddenEye
Summary: And, if Keith had the guts to even admit it to himself, sometimes he would let his eyes sweep around for the familiar physique of a man kneeling on the ground to tend to the flowers. Sometimes, Keith saw him tugging onto whatever weeds that managed to grow or he was hefting bags of black and red dirt on his shoulders to add to his work. Sometimes, Shiro caught Keith driving by with his window down and elbow out, offering him a beam and a wave with his trowel.Keith always waved back, heart thundering in his ears.





	Giddy Up to My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Henlo this took longer than expected but I’m glad it’s finally done! I was inspired by [buffshiro's](https://twitter.com/buffshiro) amazing [Sheith Yeehaw AU](https://twitter.com/buffshiro/status/1020843835822309376)  
> on twitter, please check out their art it’s amazing and you won’t regret it one bit!

“You gotta be joking.”

Coran shrugged, wiping his hands with a clean cloth. The sound of the old espresso machine continued to make a racket behind him, overlapping Allura’s humming as she brought out the chicken pie from the commercial refrigerator. “I’m not.”

“There’s a new family moving in?” Keith watched Coran nodding in agreement, amused that he was caught off guard. The smell of black coffee wafted around his nose, and Keith let out a low whistle as he lifted up the mug to have a sip. “We haven’t had one of those in decades.”

The café was oddly quiet at this time of the evening, considering the heat in this town sometimes had the similarities as the devil’s anus and most would want to have a taste of the new air conditioner Coran installed. With the sofas devoid of rowdy teenagers coming back from school, the atmosphere was quiet mostly, and the murmuring chatter coming from the Andersons and the Coulsons near the doors were soothing as background noise.

Keith still smelled like hen after working at the barn earlier that afternoon, and he was pretty sure some feathers were poking into his hip and neck even if he shook them out of his clothes before he came over. But the good thing was, nobody else sat near him to pick out the underlying stank he gave out as he let himself be enveloped in the smell of coffee and the opened oven from the kitchen.

“We consist of 578 people overall, including us Alteans and the Galra. So, more people would be nice,” The older Altean chuckled, leaning forward to plant his hands on the counter. “And they’re actually the merry bunch, filling this place with their family alone until almost all the seats were taken. The children were a delight.”

“They’re nice too, even if one of the sons tried to flirt with me,” Allura added, slipping Keith his plate of heated pie after popping it in the oven toaster, a fork in her other hand. She plopped herself beside Coran, elbows on the surface while Keith muttered his thanks. “There’s almost something sweet about it, in a pathetic way.”

“Why’s that?” Keith asked through a mouthful of chicken and pastry, because ever since she, Coran, and Romelle dropped down from the skies in a giant dish plate, everyone in this small town tried to flirt with both girls. Keith developed a friendship between them, and he was usually the first ear who listened to all the stories of the times when boys and men alike stumbled on their tongue the moment they saw Allura and Romelle.

Drama travelled fast, so that one time Keith was elbow deep in chicken food, he already heard the incident of Allura punching one of the Jackson brothers when David grabbed her rather forcefully. Unsurprisingly, news managed to get to him ten minutes after it happened, because his mum just got back from the bakery with a bag of croissants his Pa liked for tea when Allura socked David’s nose just outside the café.

“He kept using the cheesiest one-liners that I was pretty sure he looked them up in a book before using them on me,” She rolled her eyes, folding her arms to herself. “He was rather proud of them though, not a single shame on his body, so I’d give him credit for that.”

“Did Romeo have a name?” Keith asked.

“Lance. That’s the first thing he said before he dived headfirst into the hole of the dead.”

“That’s a stunning analogy.”

“He’s a stunning man,” Coran replied as he raised his eyebrows at Allura, who stared back at him with a stony look etched on her face. “Even if he was a bit overwhelming in the beginning. But overall, the McClains are nice people, they even gave us a small box of chocolate brownies for the house when I told Mrs. McClain this café was a family business.”

“They were good brownies,” Allura admitted reluctantly, and Coran straightened himself up with the washcloth thrown over his shoulder.

“You kids go on with whatever you want to talk about, I’m going to work on the dishes at the back before this place gets packed tonight.” Coran left with a wave, and Keith curiously watched the way Allura followed her old friend intently with her eyes, waiting for him to disappear behind the pale green curtains, before snapping the same look towards Keith with a sharp grin.

Keith slowed his chewing as he stared back, the beginnings of wariness weighing down his stomach. “What?”

“So,” Allura slipped into Coran’s place, now directly in front of him as she pinned him down with an expectant look that looked far too excited for his own good. “Did you get his number yet?”

Immediately, steel eyes flashed in his mind’s eye, pulling him into a space beating with muffled music. Purple and blue lights glowed in a blend of colours against his body, a smile that looked far too sweet played on that bow shaped lips as the man with a scar on his nose teased him with the roll of his hips. There was a whiff of the fruity alcohol Keith had splashed himself with earlier that night, and the faint smell of the man’s perfume tickled his nose when Keith looked up at him with his mouth agape.

Keith chomped down on a piece of pie to cut off the vision, scrambling to collect himself as he smacked the blush away from his cheeks. “No.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Allura shot up with a clap of her hands, earrings tinkling as she smiled widely. “You should talk to him again.”

Keith couldn’t stop the grimace from taking over. “Allura—“

“Matt and Hunk would agree,” When he opened his mouth again, she barged on without giving him the chance. “It’s been five months, Keith. _Five_. And the only thing you’ve accomplished is going into that strip club every other week to see Shiro and stalk him from afar when he’s working on people’s gardens.”

“I don’t stalk him—“

Allura shot both her eyebrows up her forehead, hands dropping to her sides. Keith poked the air in front of him with his fork. “I do _not_ ,” he insisted firmly. “It’s just a coincidence every time we bump into each other at a particular place and on a particular time. It’s not like I’m keeping tabs on what he’s doing everyday.”

“Don’t you?”

“ _No._ ”

“But, you know when he gets off his morning work and when his night shift starts on some days a week, right?”

Keith faltered, fork falling as a smile climbed up her lips. “Right. So, make plans with him for a date.”

“How is it you think it’s that easy?” Keith grumbled, using his thumb to pick on the crumbs at the corner of his mouth. “We’re just friends, and that’s all we’re going to be.”

“You have a crush on him,” Allura told him flatly, and Keith avoided her look as he finished off the last of his pie. “You’ve been pining over him for almost half a year, ever since you found out he moved here from his city.”

Keith lifted his head to squint at her. “You make it sound like I’m some kind of snob.”

Both of them turned towards the sound of the bell ringing, and a group of middle schoolers chittered between themselves as they made their way to the sofa set, backpacks slung over their shoulders. Allura stationed herself behind the cashier when two of them checked out the pastries. “He lap danced on you for your birthday, your chance in awkward ice breaking is over.”

“There’s a difference between having someone dancing on you and actually getting to know them as a person,” Keith gulped down his lukewarm drink before setting the empty mug down, arching his eyebrows at her. “And if I wanna do this, I have to do it properly. This,” he waved a hand to himself. “Is not doing it properly.”

“Hiding doesn’t make much progress though,” Allura commented in a honeyed tone as he stood up from his stool, making a grab for his hat. “And avoiding. Which is what you’re doing now.”

“I have my pace.” He said with a small wave, making his way out.

“Accelerating down the roads and almost hitting cows and people, is what I heard.”

“Pidge is just mad I almost hit her with my bicycle when we were kids, that’s all,” he threw over his shoulder, hearing the way she laughed. “Bye, Allura.”

“We’re having another night out with them later!” She called out just before the door slammed close.

Keith had to squint through the orange light of the evening sun shining brightly into his eyes, tilting his head down to make the brim of his hat block most of the glare as he made his track to his pickup truck. He ran a hand on the rust speckled on the hood, studied the damage with a small sigh, and tacked down a mental note to have it painted later. When he pulled himself into the seat and twisted his wrist the to start its engine, the truck roared underneath his feet, Muddy Waters blasting through his speakers.

His fingers tapped against the steering wheel with the rhythm thrumming against the walls of his truck. He glanced at the rearview mirror as he reversed out of the parking spot with ease before he turned towards the road, humming quietly under his breath while the little pine tree hanging on the mirror swayed as he made his way for home.

 

* * *

 

“I want flowers in front of our house.”

Keith stiffened at the sudden voice, letting out a long breath through his lips before he picked his head up from where he was cleaning his bike in the barn.

His mother was leaning against the doorframe of the entrance with her arms crossed against her chest, a stern expression locked on her face — the only thing that could have her look like that was whenever she argued with his father on things that had to do with the house; like changing the colour of their drapes or buying a different brand of horseshoes for their chairs.

“Did you talk to Pa about this?” He asked, standing up from his crouched position as he wiped his oil stained hands with a rag. “Or is that why you’re coming to me?”

“He thinks flowers would die if we planted them in our front yard,” she informs him, irritation clear in her eyes despite the even tone of her voice. “I couldn’t convince him with our neighbour’s yard because he said it was different. Their yard was different because their ground was different.”

“Their ground was different,” Keith parroted dully, tucking the rag in his back pocket before he tied his hair up to let the morning say breeze breathe onto his sweaty nape.

He didn’t how the ground surrounding their house was any different from their five-minute-walk neighbour living a little down the road, because whenever he drove past the area, it was just as dry and patchy with random grass as their own land. Only, their neighbours had a little fence planted around their new orchard just outside their front door. It was beautifully done, with sunflowers, petunias, and California poppies blooming brightly under the sun, easily catching anyone’s eye among the barren of desert they lived on.

And, if Keith had the guts to even admit it to himself, sometimes he would let his eyes sweep around for the familiar physique of a man kneeling on the ground to tend to the flowers. Sometimes, Keith saw him tugging onto whatever weeds that managed to grow or he was hefting bags of black and red dirt on his shoulders to add to his work. Sometimes, Shiro caught Keith driving by with his window down and elbow out, offering him a beam and a wave with his trowel.

Keith always waved back, heart thundering in his ears.

“It’s not different, it’s just that they got the flowers done properly,” Keith said, trying to smooth the situation over. “Some flowers wouldn’t able to survive this weather, sure, but some can. But, they need proper tending, that’s all.”

Bless his mother for being an entire different species when she cocked her head to the side in interest, still curious to know about Earth like the first time she candidly entered the atmosphere twenty-five years ago and landed in front of Heath Kogane’s house.

Keith sometimes thought his parents’ meeting had the same aura of those fairytale books he read in the public library when he was younger; except Heath was the princess getting his ass beat by some out-of-town bikers passing by the area while Krolia was his prince in shining armour the moment she blown their tyres off with her blaster.

In his eight-year-old mind, Keith concluded that true love exist when they ran from the cops together, while members of the Blade of Marmora made threats about breaking the bikers’ dicks if they ever touched any of them again.

“Should we call someone to do it?”

Keith opened his mouth to answer, but Krolia continued in thought, “I think I’ll go to the flower shop to see what kind of seeds they have, and what would look nice for our yard,” She met his eyes, mind made. “Are you going anywhere by noon?”

“I thought of letting the hens have a little run for the day,” Keith told her, but he was already mentally preparing himself. “But, sure I can go.”

“Good,” She nodded, dropping her arms as she pushed herself away from the doorframe. “Now, he can’t say no.”

Keith shook his head, but a small smile twitched at his mouth as he followed her back to the house, pulling the door close behind him when she motioned towards their empty yard with a sweep of her hand, “See how unwelcoming this looks? Flowers would make our house look nicer.”

He nodded. “It would.”

“I didn’t _say_ it wouldn’t,” Keith popped his head up to see Heath leaning against the window sill, staring pointedly at his wife. “I’m just concerned on how they would survive in this heat.”

“Keith said there are flowers that could stand the heat,” She changed her course and made her way towards him instead, gaze never wavering as she stopped right in front of him, hands propped on her hips. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“I didn’t know.” Heath said, head tilted to look at her from where he was still hunched on the window. But, there was a twinkle in his eyes that Keith always saw whenever they were like this, and a smile teased his lips when Krolia let out a small huff of breath.

“I find that hard to believe,” There was a smile on her lips too, an obvious sign in itself as she indulged Heath in his little plays. Keith swung the front door open to let himself in the house. “You live here your whole life, you’re supposed to know these things.”

“Maybe I ain’t that good,” Heath laughed, straightening up to peck her lips before he turned towards where Keith was pulling the refrigerator door open, his hand reaching out to grab a can of Coke. “You influenced her into this, huh?”

The can popped under his finger before Keith took a gulp, the corner of his eye catching Krolia walking into the house. “You wouldn’t mind.”

Heath laughed again, causing her to roll her eyes behind his head. “That, you’re right.”

“I’ll call Shiro later,” Keith almost snorted his drink back out at her words, coughing violently with a hand thumping his chest as he turned away from his parents’ quizzical expressions. “Say we’re dropping by later in case he’s not there,” She paused to get nearer to Keith, but he waved away her concern. “Are you alright?”

“Wrong pipe,” he wheezed out, the sting of the carbonated drink pricked his nose and made his eyes water. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Keith cleared his throat, setting the can on the breakfast island. “Yeah. I’m okay.” He cleared his throat again, louder this time, before he move towards the sink to wash his hands and to avoid looking at his parents directly, hoping they wouldn’t see how jittery he got as he twisted the knob and water came bursting out. “So, uh, how did you get his number?”

“He gave me his business card when I passed his shop yesterday. I was admiring the new flowers that arrived when he noticed me looking at them,” She still eyed him carefully as he soaped his hands. “Are you sure you’re alright? You look a little pale.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Just, like I said,” Water ceased to a stop when Keith turned off the tap, giving his mother a quick smile as he wiped his hands with a cloth. “Wrong pipe.”

“Oh, it’s not because that Shirogane boy was mentioned?” Heath asked, plucking a single grape from the fruit bowl, turning it between his fingers.

Keith could feel his lips tightened, but the smile remained as his dad threw the grape into his mouth. “Why would I?”

“I dunno, you tell me.”

“Nothin’ to tell,” Keith reached over and grabbed his Coke. “Nothin’ to be worried about. Water gone through the wrong pipe, s’all.”

“Mm-hm,” He could feel their eyes following him as he opened the back door, pulling the rag from his back pocket to make his way to the barn. “Sure thing, son.”

The door almost closed on itself when Heath suddenly spoke in a loud voice that could surely be heard throughout the whole area, “Just know that he’s a real nice man for you to choke over, though!”

The can froze in front of his mouth, and Keith pursed them briefly into a thin line before taking a defiant swing of his drink until he was able to hear Heath’s booming laugh coming out of the opened window.

Turned out noon came faster than necessary, with the sun shining hot on top of his head while he held the door of the flower ship open for Krolia. The cool air was a blessing in the form of two air conditioners installed on the wall, and Keith stood in front of one with his head tilted towards it to let his sweat dry up while Krolia was already going through the aisles.

“Hey, Keith.”

Keith snapped his head towards the voice, heart thudding in his chest when Shiro closed the door of the storeroom behind him with a smile at his way.

“Shiro.” Keith watched as Shiro took off his gardener gloves and shoved them into the pocket of the green apron tied around his waist, ‘Sunny Side’ in block yellow letters popped out from middle. It was endearing, really, with one side of his apron weighed down by a hand spade and a garden fork that peeked out of the pocket, while the white forelock that usually hung in front of his eyes was now pushed back with a small hair clip, the red bow on Hello Kitty’s ear faded with time.

The word ‘cute’ played in his mind, but Keith swept it away when Shiro began speaking. “This is kinda interesting.”

Oh, boy. “Why is it interesting?”

“I’m not exactly sure, but,” Shiro chuckled lightly, using his hands to lean against the edge of the counter. “Probably because the places we usually meet is not, well, _here._ ”

Keith let out a short, bark of laughter, shoving his fists into his jeans pockets. “Well, uh, surprise?”

He was already conceiving a plan to leave for the city. He knew he wouldn’t bump into the stripper who danced for him with, say, the same florist he bought flowers from if he moved there.

Shiro grinned in response. “So, what can I help you with?”

It took effort in keeping his eyes strictly on Shiro’s face while the bulge of his arms were right in front of Keith, constricting the sleeves of his grey T-shirt. But, he managed, since Heath had his chance in dragging his dignity through the mud earlier that day, and like an egg perched carefully on top of a bull’s horn, Keith still needed to be careful when Shiro already pointed out something he _had_ hoped to avoid with Krolia only a couple rows over.

He didn’t know how his parents got an inkling of anything between Shiro and him, since they were on a month long road trip around the states for the first time in years and didn’t get back a week after Keith woke up with a wrecking ball swinging around the walls of his head.

But then, Keith remembered he lived in a small town where everyone knew everyone and anybody’s business was suddenly everyone else’s. If anyone saw City Man with his metal arm lap dancing on Krolia’s boy for his twenty-first birthday, it would be, as Keith guessed it, _everyone._

“My mum’s thinking of planting some flowers in front of our yard,” he said, silently gathering the last of his pride. “Said she wanted really nice ones to make the house more welcomed?”

Shiro hummed. “Any preferences on the species?”

“Uh, not really? I mean,” Keith jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “She’s checking out some seeds, but she did say some petunias would be great.”

“How does she want it planted? Having pots or shrubs around the house, or a small field with different varieties and some fences around them? I can even add in some some tiny trees and trim them every end of the week or so to make them look nice.”

Keith gaped a bit, before quickly shutting his mouth with a click. “Um—“

“You could have them in small baskets and hang them on your porch,” Shiro continued with a slight lift of his massive shoulders, amusement shone bright in his eyes when he added, “or in small fancy pots to put on your windows, they would look nice too.”

Keith let out a little laugh, scratching the back of his head as Shiro waited patiently for him to answer with a smile on his face. “That’s actually a lot. We’ll have to ask her, because I have no idea how she wants to do it.”

“That’s fine,” Shiro chuckled, straightening himself up before stepping away from the counter. “We can have a look at the storage at the back, and you can have an idea on how you want to arrange them. Fair warning though,” Even if Keith wasn’t that much shorter than him, Shiro still stood a whole 6’3 that Keith had to slightly raise his eyes to meet his. The same steel he first saw on the stage stared back at him with the same kind tones of his tilted lips. “The temperature is going to drop a bit when we get in. I hope you don’t mind the cold.”

“We live in a place where sometimes it’ll drop to the sixties once the sun’s gone,” Keith arched his eyebrows. “I think I’ll be okay.”

“If you say so,” There was something in his tone that made Keith latch onto him with his look alone as Shiro turned towards the back of the shop. “Come on, I can show you and your mom around.”

It was after Keith called Krolia from the shelves did he realised Shiro had been teasing him from the start.

At least, the cold room was enough to excuse the blush accumulating at the tip of his ears.

Keith felt as if he entered a scene in Secret Garden the moment he pushed through the plastic curtains, since there were buckets of flowers everywhere to the point they were stacked on trolleys to be wheeled out. When he peered into them, their stems wrapped in wet cotton and most of them were tied into bundles for immediate purchase. Some flowers had their buds wrapped in nets, some didn’t, and leaves he had no idea even existed were overflowing from their tall basins and were dragging on the floor.

He reached out and let his hand brush against some red roses, feeling the smooth petals sail under his fingertips. He looked up at the sound of clatter and saw Shiro pushing an empty trolley out of the way to make through. “Sorry about the mess, I was in the middle of cleaning the place up when you arrived.”

“It’s fine, we don’t mind,” Krolia answered, admiring the pink lilies to her right. “They’re all beautiful.”

“They are,” Shiro agreed, wiping his hands on his apron. “But, it’s a different kind of feeling to see your own garden growing when the sun is just about to rise. You’ll get to appreciate it more on a personal level,” He smiled. “Especially when you work on them on your own.”

Keith listened to suggestions being thrown up and some advices Shiro gave. Keith knew it was actual work to raise your own garden, but it was also choosing the suitable soil, having the right fertiliser where your flowers wouldn’t drop dead if you so much ignore them, or making sure you were using the best equipment to care for your garden properly instead of yanking them by hand.

It was buying sprinklers or a couple of watering cans; adding with a pruner, a 5-tine hand garden rake, some seedling planters, a great dixter planting spade, a couple of hand spades, a hand cultivator, some pots, sixteen bags each of two different types of soil, twelve bags of fertilisers, some packets of daylilies, black-eyed-susans, and asters that were added to their bill.

Krolia was starting the truck to let the hot air out as Shiro helped carry the bags to the back of the pickup truck, while Keith was rearranging their goods to make them all fit.

“I can swing by tomorrow morning to get started if you want?” Shiro passed the last bag of fertiliser with a huff. “If you’re okay with that, that is. I don’t mind a little later but I’m off from four till the next day.”

“It’s because of your other job, right?” Keith stacked the bag with the rest, and heard the way Shiro let out a breath of laughter.

“Yeah, it is.”

Keith wiped his forehead with back of his hand, turning around to peer down at the way Shiro was looking at him with a hand cupped over his eyes as he squinted through the sun; waiting, almost hopeful.

Keith was starting to have delusions under the heat.

He planted his feet on the ground, wiping his hands onto his lap. “Why not? The sooner, the better.”

Shiro smiled. “Great. And here,” he reached into one of his pockets and took out a card, the same one Krolia used to call him with earlier. Before Keith could say a word, Shiro tapped the back of the card. “It has my personal number on it too, in case I don’t answer the landline.”

The numbers were taunting him with open glee. His friends were going to laugh at him for not making the first move, he could already smell the betrayal from where he stood.

Keith ran a thumb over the inked numbers of his scribbled handwriting, and gave Shiro a smile as he closed his fingers over it. “Thanks.”

“No problem. And, uh, this is going to sound weird but,” Keith noticed the way metal fingers tapped his side, like a tick he tried to get rid off as Shiro met his eyes tentatively. “Are you okay?”

Keith stared at him. He was pretty sure he looked as dumbfounded as he felt because Shiro was starting to shuffle in place. “‘Okay’ in what way?”

“I mean,” Shiro cleared his throat, hooking his thumbs onto the hoops of his pants. “I haven’t seen you at the club lately, and I was wondering if anything wrong happened?”

His sentence started to falter in the end, unsure in where he stood as Keith continued to stare at him. Oh, he thought, watching the way Shiro ducked his head meekly.

 _Oh_.

“I,“ Keith stammered, almost folding the business card in his hand from how hard he clutched onto it, before he hid it behind his back. “I— Nothing went wrong, it’s just,” He waved his hand helplessly in general, feeling cold dread dropping to the bottom of his stomach. “You know—”

“It’s a small town, yeah,” Shiro laughed a bit to cover whatever horrid thing it was being unearthed between them. “Seeing a gardener be your stripper for the night is kinda weird, huh?”

“No, it’s not that,” Keith was flustered at how Shiro was getting it all wrong and how _your stripper_ still echoed in his ears. The heat wasn’t helping. “I’m used to seeing people do two different things at once, and it’s nothing about you being at a club. It’s just that—“

“Keith?”

Both of them whipped around towards the call, and Keith shot Shiro an apologetic look before craning his head to see Krolia poking her head out of the window. “Are you two okay? Do you need help?”

“We’re fine,” Keith answered. “Just talking.”

Doubt latched onto the lines of her face, but she merely nodded. “The truck’s cooled, we can leave whenever you’re ready.”

“Right,” Keith turned back to Shiro, who had a rueful smile that made Keith grip onto the card again. He opened his mouth, before closing it again, lips pursed slightly into a tight smile of his own. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I’ll be there,” Shiro clasped a hand onto his shoulder, giving him one last smile, before he let it slide away as he took a step back. “See you, Keith.”

Keith licked his dry lips, giving him a small wave. “See ya.”

His touch tingled as Keith slipped into his seat with Krolia sending a concerned look at his way, it latched onto his skin all the way throughout the stretch of that sandy road, right until he was unloading the truck and moving the stuff to the barn.

Keith collapsed onto his bed, groaning as he dug his eyes with the heel of his palms, Shiro’s card stained with leftover dirt and crushed under his fingers.

“What the fuck, Kogane?”

 

* * *

 

“What the hell, Keith?”

“I asked myself the same thing, don’t worry,” Keith told her wryly, taking a sip of his beer as Pidge snorted.

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re an idiot, that’s why.”

“Told myself that too.”

“He thought you were, what, ignoring him?” Hunk asked, nursing a bottle of ginger ale from where they occupied a booth at the corner of the bar. “Ashamed that you popped a boner for the gardener slash stripper?”

“You’re not helping,” Keith grumbled, tipping his head back to finish off the last of his drink. He let out a wince and slammed his bottle on the table. “And I don’t care if he’s a stripper, I just _like_ him the way he is. But, I panicked this afternoon, and now he thinks I hate him.”

“Yeah, well, you _have_ been going to that club for every two weeks or so to see him until you skipped last month’s session,” Hunk pointed out with a finger. “And when you see him outside the club, you usually— how do you say this,” he nudged Pidge with his elbow. “How do you say someone who’s too shy to talk to their crush even though they pretty much hit it off the moment they met?”

“In denial?” Pidge supplied, munching on a french fry. “Stupid?”

“Freeze up,” Hunk continued with a nod. “You freeze up, even though there’s some progress in getting to know each other with the little talks you have while his dog pees on a fire hydrant.”

“Jiro peed a bit on my boots, and Shiro kept saying sorry and will buy me new ones,” Keith muttered, dragging his third bottle of beer to himself. “I didn’t mind, but he bought me new boots anyway. I tried to give it back to him but he gave excuses of not fitting into them and told me to keep them. I wore it once, and it was during the fourth time we went to the club.”

“Jesus.” Hunk stared at him, fingertips wrapped around the mouth of his bottle.

“He probably used his extra shift money,” Pidge let out a low whistle, shoving another couple of fries into her mouth. “Now, that? Is hardcore love, my dude. That’s the modern embodiment of walking in an open fire rampage in front of your partner during World War II.”

“That’s kinda stupid, why would he feel anything about me?” Keith popped the cover off, and took a swing as he let himself slouch further down the worn red leather seats. His new position made his hat cover his entire face, his bottle resting on his stomach with his fingers interlaced around it. “I’m doomed. I can never face him again tomorrow.”

“Just talk to him,” He had to blink away the brightness of the bar lights searing into his eyes when Hunk lifted the hat off his face, setting it on the table. “The lack of communication is what gotten you into this mess anyway.”

“Yeah, he’s a good guy. He’ll understand.” Pidge pushed his feet off the edge from where they were propped beside her, and Keith couldn’t even be bothered to protest when he found himself staring at his pressed thumbs rather dejectedly. “And stop being so pathetic, you’re making Kolivan look bad when he’s just trying to run this place.”

“I’m drunk, I’m entitled to be pathetic.” Keith sighed through his nose, eyes trailing to where the leader of the Blade was serving his customers with his usual grim look. “Do you think he knows?”

“About your undying love for Shiro?” Pidge asked, and Keith let the question roll in his mind before letting out a hum of agreement.

“Dude,” Hunk drank his ginger ale. “We all do.”

 

* * *

 

The hangover wasn’t so bad at least, but Keith still stumbled downstairs in his jeans he wore from last night without a shirt on, rummaging through the cabinets for something to get rid of the dull headache.

He placed the pills at the back of his throat, putting his palm under the nozzle of the sink pipe as water rushed out, before slurping it rather messily from his hands as he swallowed them down. He wiped his mouth with his knuckles, cupping his hands under running water again to splash his face and dug the remains of sleep from the corner of his eyes.

It was when he turned the tap off that he heard noises coming from the backyard. Keith didn’t bother wiping the falling droplets from his face and padded towards the window to have a look, narrowing his eyes against the morning sun.

There was a _thunk_ of something hitting the ground, and Keith turned his head to the right to see Shiro using a hoe to dig up the semi dead layer of grass around the house, wearing a straw hat with a thin tacky purple ribbon near the brim.

Leaning forward, Keith used his elbows to prop himself against the window sill, letting his eyes roam over those arms and how the white shirt Shiro wore stick on his figure like second skin, and the sweat he produced made the material translucent enough for Keith to appreciate the way it stretched the front of his chest and down the length of his body.

“Need help?” He called out, and Shiro whipped his head up with sweat dripping in between his eyes.

Straightening his spine, Shiro held onto the hoe as he used the collar of his shirt to wipe his face, dirtying the shirt in the process and allowing Keith to catch the way the V of his hips disappeared down his pants.

“If you want,” Keith snapped his eyes up to his face. Shiro leaned some of his weight against the hoe, scrutinising his own work with a hand on his hip. If Keith didn’t know better, he would say the man was ignoring him. “I’m almost done with this, and then I’ll just have to clear any rocks or dead roots, throw in some soil and fertiliser before planting the seeds in.” Then, Shiro turned to face him, a smile playing on his lips. “Like I said, if you want.”

Keith searched his face, looking for anything from yesterday that he needed to poke into. But, Shiro wasn’t giving him the chance to know what he thought, his iron will to keep things neutral and non-explosive stood stronger than how Keith wanted to find a way to pass his walls so he could apologise.

He didn’t push, at least, not yet. The tentative delicacy still hung in the air between them, and as much as Keith wanted to barge through, Shiro may need some time before he could talk. Properly, without doubts.

“Lemme just grab my shirt and hat, and I’ll get the soil from the barn.”

Keith was already pushing himself away when Shiro said, “Wait, aren’t you supposed to be working on your own job?”

Keith paused, before poking his head back out. “Lotor can wait.”

Shiro arched his eyebrows. “Can he do that for you?”

A shield of a straw hat protecting him from the sun, hand on his hip, the other on the hoe, cheeks aflamed from the heat, and an expression that could only be identified as judgement bled relentlessly onto this canvas of a man with vivid colours of life. Keith thought Shiro looked rather spectacular in that pose, and if he had his phone with him then, he would hold onto the burst button of his camera until a notification would pop out to warn him of insufficient memory.

Instead, he shrugged. “He has to. I haven’t had a day off the whole time I was working for him.”

The truth rang loud even if Shiro continued scrutinising him intently, eyes never leaving Keith that all he could do was stare back with apprehension bubbling in his stomach.

In the end, Shiro shifted them away, breaking the tight air between them as he wiped the scar across the bridge of his nose with a gloved thumb. “Alright.”

They worked efficiently, Shiro giving tips on how to plant the seeds by making sure each had enough space to avoid overcrowding. Small talk were made here and there when Keith asked questions on the things he wasn’t sure on, but secretly, he was goading Shiro to talk as well, silently keeping away the sight of Shiro kneeling beside him while he patted the ground over the small holes they poked into. If anything, Keith didn’t want a barrier slamming down in between them, even if simple camaraderie was all they had.

Working hours into the day, the sun was perched directly above their heads when they decided to take a break, getting themselves out of the scorching hot sunlight and making their way in through the back door with a sigh. Keith went fishing out a couple of glasses while Shiro made himself comfortable on one of the stools near the breakfast island, fanning himself with his hat that Keith couldn’t help but chuckle a bit.

Shiro stopped, suspicious as he eyed the way Keith pulled onto the refrigerator door to grab a carton of mango juice. “What?”

“No, nothing,” Keith poured each glass full, meeting his look head-on. “Just thinking.”

He slid the glass over to Shiro, who muttered his thanks before replying, “About?”

“Well, I’m about to move out and have a house and barn of my own,” Keith sat carefully on the stool beside him, watching Shiro take a drink. “They’re both nice, spacey even, but the yard’s pretty dull now.”

Shiro let the corner of his lips lift up wryly. “So, you want flowers too?”

“The hanging pots sound cool,” Keith agreed, letting his arm rest on the counter. “Nah, I’m thinking more of having a chicken coop.”

Shiro let out a burst of laughter before clamping his mouth shut, bringing his glass to his lips again when it stretched into a pursed smile. “You know I just do flowers.”

“Yeah. But, the hanging pots thing are _still_ pretty cool if I hang them near the little ladies’ houses,” Shiro’s shoulders were already jumping in silent laughter, and Keith couldn’t help but let the same amusement shake the next of his words when he continued, “What? It’s true, I’d still like to pay you to make my house not look like Frankenstein’s castle. Like Mum said, it has to look presentable.”

“Fine, fine,” Shiro leaned back, the same humoured smile still playing on his lips. “You want flowers in hanging baskets, got it. What species?”

“White tulips,” Keith informed him blithely, and Shiro shot both his eyebrows up in surprise. “Purple hyacinths, and probably daffodils.”

“Tulips and daffodils are too large for baskets, hyacinths are probably alright but...“

Shiro faltered, mouth parted in surprise, and Keith saw the way realisation dawned in those eyes while the thundering in his heart could be felt to the centre of his being, echoing loudly in his ears. But, he waited, gripping his untouched glass in his hand to the point of breaking.

“That’s one hell of an apology,” Shiro began, almost breathless. He cleared his throat, looking into the insides of his own glass. “What are all that for?”

“You,” Keith answered, and Shiro snapped his look at him again. “Running off yesterday wasn’t very polite when you just wanted to talk, and I’m sorry.”

“I made it a big deal, so I don’t understand how you’re the one apologising, through flowers nonetheless,” Shiro shook his head in mild disbelief. “I was being stupid—“

“No, please, hear me out before I lose my guts in doing this,” Immediately, Shiro shut his mouth, and Keith scratched his cheek with a finger. “I, uh, didn’t go to the club as much because half of the time I was manning at the Blades’ for extra cash and the other half was, well,”

He took off his hat and set it down on the island, feeling as if his scalp was sweating as Shiro waited for him to continue with wide eyes. “I kinda have a crush on you? And I didn’t know how to deal with that so I just,” He wanted the ground to open up under his feet and swallow him whole. “Avoided the place.”

Keith didn’t feel like watching his reaction and took a gulp of his mango juice, tasting the sweet drink hitting the back of his throat before he finished it in one go. He almost slammed the glass on the surface of the breakfast island, and was about to get up when a hand fell onto his wrist.

Keith pressed his tongue against the top row of his teeth, mentally collecting himself as he peeked at Shiro through his bangs.

The man had a large grin on his face, something akin to shock and delight mingling into this mutant of an expression that had Keith staring back at him in surprise. “I— You— So, you don’t, I dunno know, hate me?”

The question was so unexpected that the first thing that came out of Keith was a staggering, “Not a fucking chance.”

“Jesus,” Shiro breathed, chuckling, eyes now twinkling. “And I thought I made a bad move with the sparkly thong on that last day you came in.”

Keith managed a straight face despite the way heat was already pooling on his cheeks. “That was the same day I realised I liked you.”

“Oh,” Shiro said quietly, his own blush making an appearance until his pale scar and silver hair stood out. “That’s— I’m honoured. And I don’t know know how to say this back but,”

He licked his lips nervously, and without another word, he slowly pried Keith’s fingers away from the glass and let his fingers stretched across his.

They were palm to palm, Shiro’s hand looked bigger than Keith’s own slimmer ones despite having the tip of his fingers almost reaching to Shiro’s. The pads of his hand were rough, slightly dirty from all the work they did for the past three hours out in the soon-to-be garden, his blue veins sticking out within his tanned skin. There were little scratches that slashed near his knuckles, and Keith readjusted their hold to brush a thumb against one of them while Shiro only stayed still, breathing softly into the air between them.

“Can’t believe someone liked me back,” Shiro murmured, watching the way Keith laced their fingers together. “Even after the arm and others.”

Keith noticed the way he closed his metal fingers into a fist on his lap, and tightened their hold on one another. “Pretty hard not to.”

“Yeah, but some wouldn’t think so,” Shiro gave him a smile, and Keith wanted to touch his face. “Even if I work at a strip club, it’s pretty hard not to feel self-conscious with,” He gestured towards himself with his free hand flittingly. “Everything.”

“You’re beautiful,” Keith told him; a fact, a law in its own way. “And I like you because you’re _you._ Talking with you was one of the best things I did on my birthday, even if I was wasted and couldn’t remember some of it.”

“I remember that,” Shiro made a twirling motion with his finger on top of his head. “Do you still have that hat?”

“Bedazzled 21 is in a box,” Keith told him, bringing their linked hands together to his mouth and planting a kiss onto Shiro’s knuckles, causing the man in front of him to inhale sharply. “Kept it away properly because Matt will kill me if I got any dusts in between his hard work of sticker gems.”

“That was a great hat,” Shiro told him in a hushed voice, and Keith felt his gaze more than he saw it, pressing another kiss to the back of his hand. “The lights caught onto it when you first walked in and I remember wanting to give the birthday boy a dance for wearing a tacky hat.”

“Yeah?” Keith laughed lightly, looking up.

Shiro smiled. “Yeah.” There was a pause, painstakingly quiet except for the afternoon breeze. “Are we okay?”

Keith nodded, letting their hands rest on the island. “We’re okay.”

Shiro had to leave early because one couple was coming over to choose some flowers for their wedding. Keith helped him wash all the equipments and kept them in the barn before he walked Shiro to his truck, leaning against the side with his arms crossed as Shiro reassured the person in his phone that he would arrive the shop in fifteen minutes. Once he said his goodbyes, he shoved his phone into his back pocket as he shot Keith a smile. “I’ll see you around?”

Keith nodded. “I‘ll see you around.”

Another long pause then stretched between them, before Keith let out a huff and took a step forward.

He waited too long for this.

Shiro managed to blink in surprise before Keith was cupping his cheek and tilting his head up to press their lips together, short and sweet enough that Shiro was left standing there with a stunned expression on his face when Keith leaned back, who stepped out of his space with a grin itching up the corners of his mouth.

“See ya, Shiro,” Keith gave a small wave before he turned around to leave, but a hand grabbed his wrist and pulled him back in, causing Keith to snicker in response before Shiro was kissing him properly.

Shiro had his arm wrapped around his waist while a hand was pressed in between his shoulder blades, sliding his mouth against his until Keith was opening his own to plunge a tongue in between his lips, licking the roof of his mouth while his hands gripped onto the bands of Shiro’s jeans to pull him much closer than they were.

They broke off with a soft gasp, breathing heavily to suck in what air they lost as Keith reached out to brush away the white tuft of hair from those steel eyes.

“Wow,” he said softly, and Shiro turned his head to brush his puffy lips into his palm.

“Come around tomorrow,” Shiro told him, and Keith knew what he meant. “We have a theme and a show you might like.”

“Really?” He asked, interest piqued. “What is it?”

Shiro hummed in response, his nose nudging against Keith’s fingers. “Yeah,” He lifted his head to give him a wild grin, dimples springing out. “It’s Charlie’s Angels.”


End file.
